“Sunshine all the time makes a desert”

Arab proverb

(via thaihaha)

(Source: dounia-algeria)

“Other people are not medicine.”
—   (via sunsetkawaii)

(Source: slutsandsinners)

Tell me where it hurts, she’d say. Stop howling. Just calm down and show me where.

But some people can’t tell where it hurts. They can’t calm down. They can’t ever stop howling.”
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin  (via bushybrowed)

(Source: aranrhod)

shrooomieee:

Neither land nor women are territories of conquest

(Source: mal-educadx)

maybe when the leaves beyond this enclave
have been marred to bone

maybe then i will pick up my wretched skeleton
this once-was bloom of a body
and toss it to the soil
to grow 

“Your daughter is ugly.
She knows loss intimately,
carries whole cities in her belly.

As a child, relatives wouldn’t hold her.
She was splintered wood and sea water.
They said she reminded them of the war.

On her fifteenth birthday you taught her
how to tie her hair like rope
and smoke it over burning frankincense.

You made her gargle rosewater
and while she coughed, said
macaanto girls like you shouldn’t smell
of lonely or empty.

You are her mother.
Why did you not warn her,
hold her like a rotting boat
and tell her that men will not love her
if she is covered in continents,
if her teeth are small colonies,
if her stomach is an island
if her thighs are borders?

What man wants to lay down
and watch the world burn
in his bedroom?

Your daughter’s face is a small riot,
her hands are a civil war,
a refugee camp behind each ear,
a body littered with ugly things

but God,
doesn’t she wear
the world well.”
— Warsan Shire, Teaching my Mother How to Give Birth: Ugly (via gravesofwrath)
“I know a few things to be true. I do not know where I am going, where I have come from is disappearing, I am unwelcome and my beauty is not beauty here. My body is burning with the shame of not belonging, my body is longing.”
— Warsan Shire, Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth (via froconoclast)
“Is there a life
after this one?
Does the heart
fall from its tree
like an overripe apple
and grow again?”
Pavana पवन (via maza-dohta)
“You cannot have
my heart and wash
yourself of its blood
at the same time.”
— Pavana पवन   (via maza-dohta)